his name is diangelo and idk who those other people are
by ihated14yearoldme
Summary: HE'S SPARTAN-74 GET IT? you know who only ever played the last 3 fallout games. me. i don't careeeee i like the lore but man i dont wanna play the first 2 all i know is theres a man made out of flesh spaghetti and also u gotta stick the water chip waaaay up ur butt vault dweller unfinished, idgaf


Uriel had sneered as he gazed down at the small, dwindling group. "Are we going to let them do this to us?"

A dozen young fists had thrust themselves into the air with a loud shout of rebellion. DiAngelo's was one of them. How could it not be after all that had happened? After all they had learned?

"For how long have we been stuck here? Our parents? Our grandparents? What right do they have to hold us?"

DiAngelo gazed into the now-empty bedroom to his right, two beds built into the wall and blankets neatly tucked in. The door slid shut quietly. His fingers ached.

"It's time to show these fuckers who deserves to be in control!"

In retrospect, Uriel was right. Yes, Ariel and Micah and Gabriel, they were all right, too. Once they discovered the experiment terminals in the dead of night during an outside excursion, whispers of revolution spread like wildfire through the small group of teenagers.

He aimlessly wandered the empty, echoing halls, trying to keep his mind off the gnawing hunger in his core.

He meandered into the atrium, with its dried and dead plants, half withered into dust. A grim reminder that, in two more days, he would die of dehydration. He walked back out.

Where could they have gone wrong?

Once those scientists were killed, the adults butchered at their hands, why couldn't they keep the Vault running? Why couldn't they escape? They were bred to succeed. Flawless smiles, flawless features, and trained to be perfect, all of them.

And, despite that, without supervision it fell into chaos.

The door, the grand, heavy thing that locked them away for generations, was jammed. Sealed shut. No matter what they tried, every Pip-Boy, every weapon, every fist pounded against the cold metal, it remained unmoving. They were stuck inside to watch each other wither away. Once this was realized, Uriel had taken control of the food and the water. With it, he controlled their actions. Controlled them. Always the charismatic one, he was.

Half of his brothers and sisters died the first week. The imperfects sacrificed to preserve rations once the water systems failed. There was nothing they could do from inside the Vault- it was contaminated from the outside. Maybe it was compromised, maybe it was simply time. DiAngelo suspected it had something to do with the doctors' murders. A failsafe, perhaps? After learning of the corporation's plans for him and his brothers and sisters, he wouldn't put it past them.

Three days ago, when he and Uriel were the only ones left, his brother slept, confident and stupid in his power, and DiAngelo's hands found his neck in the dead of the night.

He stepped back into the room where his brother lay, face serene despite the muddled red marks ringing around his throat.

DiAngelo licked his lips and swallowed dryly.

He thought, maybe, that his luck was finally turning once the sirens began to sound.

Oh, how he had hated Sundays, how he hated Luck days. Such a stupid trait to train for.

He grabbed the ten millimeter pistol off the floor beside him and crept through the useless decontamination arches to the entryway.

The Pip-Boy he grabbed off one of the dead scientists hung loose on his arm as he held the pistol close and peered around the corner.

As the door slowly pulled itself out of its resting place, he quickly patted down the pockets of his Vault suit to make sure he had an extra magazine or two.

And then, it rolled open. He was nearly blinded by the daylight, having grown used to the dim emergency lights of the Vault once the power went out. The smell of the outdoors overwhelmed him as he tried to make out who stood in the shadows blocking his escape route.

"No, no, I swear, this Vault was flourishing a month ago! I was just here trading with the scientists for medical supplies!" A woman's voice rang out as the walkway leisurely stretched to greet them.

"Scientists? From Vault-Tec? No wonder this place is in ruins." The tallest figure had a distinctly male voice and broad shoulders. A backpack hung off his shoulder.

"Sir, it looks like the power's been in emergency mode for a while. I doubt anyone who _was_ here survived." The voice of the third creature surprised him with its strange accent.

"I'll say. C'mon, Albert, let's just get this over with. Maybell doesn't like to be kept waiting. You too, provisioner."

"I don't want to go in here! There were kids!"

"Kids?" The taller figured repeated with a whistle, finally taking a step inside. " _Great_. One of _those_ Vaults."

DiAngelo shifted his weight to his back foot, prepared to leap out of hiding and attack if necessary. He didn't remember the woman who claimed to be a trader. Had the scientists been opening the door behind their backs? If so, then why weren't they allowed into the real world?

"Sir, if I may, there seems to be someone awaiting you down that hallway there."

DiAngelo bit his lip. Well, there goes the element of surprise.

He spun around the corner and held the pistol out in front of himself, quickly placing the iron sights over the tall man.

"Whoa, hey!" The two humans threw their hands up, and the robot hovered next to the man warily.

"No survivors, huh, Albert?" The woman snapped.

He hated the way his hands trembled and his body swayed. He really needed to eat something other than his family.

"We're not raiders! We're just scavengers! Explorers! C'mon, put the gun down, we won't hurt you."

DiAngelo's eyes narrowed. Raiders? Scavengers? Where was their Vault located that there were such wild groups around?

"Raiders? Scavengers? Why?"

"'Why'? Shit-! I- Do you really not know?" The woman asked him.

He turned the gun on her. "What do you mean? Where are we?"

"Come on, kid, put the gun down and we'll explain." The man tried to edge his way into the conversation.

"Just tell me!" He demanded, grip tightening.

"You're in Massachusetts!"

"Of the United States? Why-?"

"Because the bombs dropped, kid. I don't know what they've been telling you in here, but it's hell on Earth outside."

DiAngelo barely noticed himself lowering the pistol. "Then what were all those experiments for?" He brought it back up in a rage. "You're lying!"

"Experiments-? Oh…" She gasped, one hand dropping and going to her mouth.

"Why would we lie to you about that? You can check for yourself." The taller man reasoned, desperately searching his face for other answers. "How long has the Vault been like this? Where is everyone else?"

DiAngelo eyed him nervously, not entirely convinced, but logic beat out any harsher emotion. "Two weeks, at least. The others are dead."

Their eyes met.

"You kill 'em?"

DiAngelo did not answer.

The man sucked in a breath and released it, slowly. "No, yeah, okay- I get that."


End file.
